The Next Pilot
by Cross-Section of the Whovian
Summary: The Chameleon Arch, a device capable of rewriting the entire biology of a Time Lord and transforming him into a human. But can it reverse the process? A curious young girl stumbles upon a derelict TARDIS and gets more than she bargained for...
1. Preface: That Blue Box

She'd grown up with it, the big blue box. It had always been there in the forest, just beyond the shoreline of the lake near her house, as normal and unquestioned as the trees around it. A lot of junk ended up in these woods, it was the perfect place to dump anything big and clunky you didn't want anymore. Every now and then a rusted-out, gutted car-husk poked up from the vines and moss and dead leaves covering the forest floor. Here and there were old traffic signs and traffic cones that stupid or drunk teenagers had stolen and abandoned as practical jokes or simple vandalism, and it wasn't difficult to stumble across the derelict remains of a once-hidden shelter where boys would stash their cigarettes, beer, or Playboys from their parents' suspicious eyes. These woods were rich with the secret history of human beings, abandoned and almost forgotten now thanks to the highway built years and years ago that made the county route skirting the forest's edge that led to her house obsolete.

She loved exploring those woods, for this very reason. As long as she could remember, since she was barely big enough to go out alone, she spent all her free time exploring the, eventually taking notebooks and paper with her to make logs and maps, charting the man-made "landmarks" as she discovered them. Her curiosity was insatiable, and her concern for personal safety was almost nonexistent. But nothing captured her imagination quite like that mysterious blue box.

She didn't know what it was. She'd found it a long time ago, when she was a little girl. And it was the most interesting thing she'd ever found. It was old, very old, and it had been buried beneath years of plant growth and death, covered with vines, mosses, leaf-mulch, and animal droppings, when she'd first spotted it. Since then she'd cleared so much of that away, and found writing on it, words like Police Public Call Box across the top, a torn sign covering a disconnected old touch-tone telephone with words like Public and Phone in crisp black letters and Pull to Open on the very bottom, and a warped, half-dissolved sticker with a few letters that didn't spell anything recognizable on one panel. Where it was exposed to the sun its paint was faded and fractured, but deep beneath the preservative forest coat, it was blue as blue could be. Its windows were oddly intact and not even cracked a little, but the light casing on top was broken, the metal twisted out of shape and the bulb inside missing except for the piece that screwed into the socket.

But there was more than that. There was so much more. It wasn't just some abandoned phone booth. Inside…it was nothing short of magical. It had been closed when she'd first found it, sealed shut by the amassed plant matter crowding around it, but she spent those long weeks prying it from nature's grip, and one day, one unforgettable summer, she came to clean more of it, and its doors lay open. Unbidden, unexplained. And inside, it wasn't just an empty box.

By now she'd figured out that it was a portal. A magical portal to this big house somewhere else. when she first walked in, she saw a big, six-sided machine covered with knobs and buttons and levels and wheels and any other control one could think of in a giant, multi-level room with corridors upon corridors she followed one by one that lead away to other places like kitchens and libraries and bedrooms and offices and studies. Nearly everything was in a strange language she didn't recognize, though, or adorned with beautiful circular designs. Some of the books in the library were even filled with those circles, and most others didn't seem to have any sort of pattern to their alphabets when compared to each other. Curioser and curiouser, though, there were parts of things here and there that were written in letters she could read, in plan English, even. What looked fascinating and complex and thrilling at first glance made absolutely no sense just beneath the surface.

She set about trying to map it and spent years trying, but nothing was more fascinating or more frustrating to a recreational cartographer than the inside of this box. Its layout didn't physically make sense! She tried two-dimensional drawings when she was young, then brought shoeboxes to try to make a scale model as her spacial understanding grew with age, but every time, things ran into each other, rooms overlapped, corridors crossed on the model where they didn't as she stared down them. She measured exact angles, meticulously recorded room dimensions, and scrapped draft after draft as they led invariably to architectural impossibilities. The entire inner workings of this strange place that the blue box led to was an enormous spacial anomaly.

She never quite gave up finally understanding the place, though. She never told anyone else about it; it was her secret world inside the forest, a treasure trove within a treasure trove. It was her life, her passion, to discover everything about it even if she couldn't make sense of most of it. Foregoing human interaction and normal life for the sake of this all-consuming curiosity, she never put much effort into peer friendships at school. It would have worried her parents more if she wasn't instead a stellar student, her passion to figure the box out leading her to learn and memorize everything she was taught and more in the vain hope that something, perhaps mathematical, scientific, historical, or even literary, would shed the tiniest touch of light on anything in those endless rooms.

None of it mattered, though, in the long run. Or maybe all of it did. Regardless, everything changed that fateful day she discovered the Chameleon Arch. She didn't know what it was, of course. She was just playing around with a brand-new set of controls she'd found in a hidden panel in the wall of the main room, and this strange, wiry, semicircular thing dropped down from the ceiling on a cable and hung there, at eye level, tarnished but inviting.

Of course she tried it on. She instinctively tried to make anything work at all in this dead place whenever she was exploring.

Nothing could have prepared her for what happened next.

The most splitting headache cleaved her skull in half and pulsed down through her body. She let out a piercing scream, but not an instant later it was drowned out by a grinding roar like an enormous, corroding, metallic beast freeing itself from chains. A heavy piston set in a clear column rising from the center of the six-paneled machine nearby dragged itself downward, adding a squeal of metal-on-metal to the thunderous noise, then pumped back upward again, and down a second time. She struggled with the clamp on her temples, dizzy, deaf and blinded by the sensory overload. It didn't let go, though. She thrashed violently against it, her screams fighting for dominance over the machine's. And then everything dissolved.

The Chameleon Arch dumped her limp body unceremoniously to the floor when it finished. The piston lowered to its final position, and the groaning roar quieted to an idle thrumming. She lay facedown on the dusty floor, motionless. Brand-new twin hearts pounded out a rhythm the likes of which hadn't been heard in the TARDIS for years.


	2. A Bad Regeneration

I opened my eyes with a gasp, and was overtaken by a violent coughing fit against all the dust I'd just sucked in from the floor next to my cheek. I struggled up to hands and knees, kicking up more dust around me, and fought for control over my breathing. That had been horrible. This was a bad regeneration, of this I was sure. Something had gone wrong, and very quickly. I wasn't sure quite what had happened, though. Not yet, at least. The post-regeneration amnesia was heavy this time, but I had other things to do before I could grapple with it.

First on my list was getting my breathing back in order. Once I'd quieted the coughing, I took a deep breath, sneezed, and sat back on my heels. Two legs, that was good. Both bent in the correct direction, even better. Both felt the same length. This body was already promising. I brought my hands in front of me, stretching them out. Same length. Shoulders and elbows in order. I looked at my hands. Thumbs were in the right place. I'd often thought that ten digits was a bit excessive, but it was the number I was used to, and I had them all. They looked small. Weak, but hopefully dexterous. There was dirt under the nails. I decided I didn't care.

I reached up to my face. I couldn't tell much from feeling around, except that I seem to have the correct amount of sensory organs, all functioning properly, all in the standard Gallifreyan placement. My hair was long, and tied back in a ponytail. Careless, but practical. I pulled it out, and shook out my hair. It was brown, bright brown, I liked it. But not free like that. I pulled it back into another ponytail. Apparently I was still practical.

I poked around my stomach and ribcage for a few seconds, discovering no obvious gaps in organs. Everything felt fine. I hoped it functioned, as well.

I decided that the physical aspect of the Regeneration had gone well. Excellent. Definitely promising. I pushed myself up to my feet, but the console room suddenly decided to lurch forward, and pitched me into a railing in front of me. I gripped it and pressed myself it, waiting for the room to stop moving. It was a moment before I realized that it wasn't; that it was my dizziness throwing off my balance. I hoped it would pass. How awful would it be to constantly have to cope with a whirling world in this regeneration? I certainly wasn't about to try another regen just because of it.

While I waited for this new obstacle to subside, I pressed a hand across my chest, forgetting one last thing. My hearts were both beating strongly, but they weren't in rhythm. The, hm, the _left_ was slightly faster, slightly stronger. That might be a problem if it didn't correct itself on its own. I wasn't overly concerned. Considering the trauma of regeneration itself, I'd give my body a few hours to adjust before I began diagnosing real problems.

I looked down at where I had woken as the room settled into its final location. No blood. No pieces, either. Just stirred up dust, and footprints of varying ages, sizes, and shoe types everywhere. A lot of people had been in here many times over the course of many years. That didn't make any sense at all. And where had the dust come from? This room looked as though it hadn't been properly used in well over fifty local years. Wherever "local" was. But I was more concerned with the dust. And the footprints. Who had been in here?

They'd certainly been thorough, whomever they were. I loosened by grip on the railing and tested my feet to see if they'd hold me without incident this time.

Nope. My chest seized as if I were going to cough again, but instead, I watched gold specks stream into the air as I was forced to exhale. No. No no no! I wanted to be done! I didn't like this regeneration, I didn't want it drawn out any more than it had to be! I had better things to be thinking about! Like _dust!_

The glittery specks didn't just dissipate, though. As I took a few more breaths and recovered from the involuntary respiratory expulsion I watched it wind its gossamer way over to the console and slip underneath. The room rattled noisily, then settled back down, kicking up dust everywhere. I scowled as I coughed, feeling the first emotion at something else since waking up. Was I easily annoyed? No, she had just stolen some of my regeneration energy! And then she filled her atmosphere with irritating particulates! That would annoy anyone, right? Not that I needed the energy anymore, but still, she could have figured out a nicer way to ask. Or a gentler way to take it.

Apparently she had no intention of doing so, though, because my chest seized again in the middle of a cough, and the console drew another slip of gold from my lungs. The rattle was quieter this time, and I finally cleared my lungs.

"Alright, alright, enough." My first words. My voice was clear and strong, my sounds articulate. I liked it. At least the body seemed manageable, even if nothing else was yet. "I get it." Colloquial. Interesting.

Apparently the T-40 _didn't _think I got it, though. I pushed myself away from the railing and stared toward the console when I seized again, doubling over this time. I _felt_ the pull too, in my whole chest, wondering if she was trying to take more than just regeneration energy this time.

"Stop it." Now I was angry. I had a right to be angry, yes? My ship was stealing my life force for her own. "I'll give you want you want, but stop taking it from me." I was more than happy to give it away, actually. I was still brimming with it, and the tingle was extremely distracting. Plus, I wanted it over with. The final regeneration touches were boring and painful, I wanted to move on and figure out who I was this time. I closed the gap between myself and the controls. My stride wasn't particularly long. Average height, then, I guessed.

I laid my hands on the console's edge and focused. My hands shimmered, and glittering gold dust rose from them and seeped beneath the framework. It was a pleasant release, like finally lowering a weight one had been carrying for a while. It didn't take too long, but when I'd finished, the T-40 sounded much healthier. I gazed around the controls, and moved to another panel. It was time to go home. Whatever had almost killed me here, I wanted to leave her far behind. I typed in Gallyfrey's spacio-temporal coordinates, set it for a while ago, too. Several centuries local time. I didn't know how long I'd been away, and I still didn't like what that dust resettling everywhere suggested of the least possible amount of time since the T-40 was last operational.

I moved around the controls, warming her up for flight. The T-40 responded with all of the sluggish grinding of a machine that hadn't been used in years, worrying me further. I couldn't possibly have been away from her for as long as the evidence suggested. I flipped a few more switches and turned a dial, and the vibrating rumble rose to a roaring crescendo, the time rotor in the center of the console beginning to pump up and down. The whole craft shook violently, and I gritted my teeth and clung to the edge of the console. _Come on, love, _I urged mentally. _Just make it to Gallifrey and we'll get you serviced and back in tip-top condition..._

The vibrating settled down a bit as everything once derelict jostled back into proper place, and the TARDIS faded slowly from Earth, on her way back to a place once thought impossible to ever again visit.


	3. Back to Gallifrey

I stood before the technician secretary at the reception center of the TT Capsule repair unit, fiddling nervously with the Gallifreyan robes I'd changed into in the flight back. I had found standard, black and gray civilian robes, a few ceremonial robes, and a beat up old headdress in the T-40's wardrobe. I wore the black robes for now, their familiarity doing little to settle my nerves as I waited for the secretary to finish his work and address me.

I'd thought that returning to Gallifrey would trigger a memory retrieval and lift this post-regeneration amnesia I was still suffering from. It had not. And completing as much of the mid-flight ship survey checklists as I could while the ship made the journey back raised more and more questions. So much was missing, and so much was old and falling apart in my T-40. I couldn't remember what had possibly happened, but I had a large number of theories, each more horrifying than the last.

The TS finally looked up at me, and offered me a cordial but somewhat surprised smile. He seemed to be surprised by my dress. I wasn't sure why. "We'll need your papers with name, TCN, and TCRN, as well as any crew changes along the way." Straight to business.

"Nothing to report in crew changes," I told him automatically, slipping a hand into my robe's pocket and pulling out a small black leather cardcase. I opened it to check that my Temporal Crew Number and Time Capsule Registration Number existed, flipped it closed, and handed it to him. I tried to keep my hands from shaking as I did so. My hearts were frantic in my chest, and my nerves were on edge. What if he asked questions. What if something was wrong. What if he asked where my crew was...I wondered if I was naturally this nervous, in this regeneration. nervous and easily annoyed. Not a good start.

He took the booklet with a professional "Thank you." He opened it, scanned it quickly with his eyes, then began copying down the information inside onto a form before him, his eyes flickering rapidly between the ID and the paper. I wondered why he didn't use the computer beside him. The IDs must have been too old for the scanners to recognize. Or perhaps I was too early for scanning tech development...No, that was definitely a scanner right there, next to him, I could see the small glass optical unit. I watched him work silently, taking a few deep breaths. So my ID was old. That fit in with the age of the console room. Alright. Everything seemed to be going well so far. In a few hours I would have a serviced T-40 and I'd be able to get back to that awful planet I'd left. After a third glance at the paper, though, he paused, frowned, and looked up at me.

I raised my eyebrows. "Something wrong?" _Please Rassilon, don't let there be. _The calm i had started to establish with this skeleton of a plan suddenly evaporated.

He looked down at the paper, looked hard at me again, then shook his head and dropped his eyes once more,. My stomach knotted. He continued to write, although more slowly, more carefully. Any professional happiness was gone, replaced by a dark suspicion.

"What's wrong?" I tried to make it a demand, but it came out too shaky.

"Nothing." His voice was sharp, though. I didn't understand. I waited a few more awkward, nervous seconds, and then he looked up a final time. "Thank you," he said with an edge to his tone. He handed the booklet back to me, his expression changing rapidly between suspicion and confusion. I opened it again. I didn't see anything wrong. It looked in order, name, numbers, registration...What had happened? Was the information bad somehow? IT wasn't in the records yet, he wouldn't have known. Maybe it was too old...Maybe something was missing from old IDs? I could have been gone so long that I missed an update...

"We'll get your capsule on our waitlist," he told me curtly, breaking my train of thought. His head was down again, and he had resumed writing. "We'll contact you with a diagnosis when we have one, and estimated repair time." His voice had completely lost the geniality it had had when I first came in.

"Thank you," I replied quickly. I turned and left as quickly as I could.

I kept walking until I found a small, open park and sat down on a bench, leaning out over my knees and staring down at the familiar red grass beneath me. I once used to be terrified of walking on grass, when I was a child. I thought it hurt the plants. I thought it made the grass bleed if I broke it. I reached down and snapped a blade from its stalk and traced its edges with my fingers. How could I remember little things like that, but nothing major or important?

I willed my hearts to calm down. At least their frantic beating was in rhythm now, but the blade of grass was trembling in my still-shaking hands. I could feel the adrenaline pulsing through my veins, my entire body tremulous. The amnesia still plagued me, and so much was missing, both from my memories, and my life.

I took deep breaths, trying to steady myself, and ran through some questions to begin an outline of how best to tackle this problem until I remembered who I was. I started with the biggest ones. Where was my crew? Did I leave them back on that planet? I didn't even remember I'd had or needed a crew until I came back to Gallifrey, and the trip here had used up all of the regeneration energy I had poured into the T-40. I couldn't go anywhere until its Eye of Harmony's link was reestablished with the Eye on Gallifrey. I wished I could remember at least a person I could contact to talk these things through with. I wasn't going to admit to a stranger on the street that I was suffering long-term post-regeneration amnesia. No one would take pity. Anyone, especially thrillseekers, who suffered a violent almost-death was seen as foolish, careless, reckless, irresponsible, and therefore deserving of this punishment. Such was the biology of the Time Lord, and such was the way of society. Gallifreyans prided themselves on their caution, circumspect, and wisdom, and to find oneself in my situation was childish and downright shameful.

I didn't have anyone to ask, though , which would have been reasonably all right if I could at least remember where I lived so I could go there and sort things out in private. No addresses came to mind, though. I tossed the blade of grass back down and pulled out the leather cardholder, flipping it open. Maybe it would have something an another pocket...

The wave of terror that hit me caused Gallifrey itself to spin for a moment.. My Time Travel Captain's ID was gone, and in its place was my Civilian ID, with a suddenly familiar address and a photo beside it. My blood turned to ice and my breath caught in my throat. This wasn't an ID. It was psychic paper. _I had handed the technician secretary a piece of psychic paper, claiming it as an official Rassilon-authenticated identification for possession of a Time Travel Capsule._ I watched the tell-tale wavy lines shimmer into existence over the image, the illusion dispelled now that I knew what it was. Why hadn't he said anything? The suspicion and confusion made sense now. An unfamiliar face in civilian robes brings a broken-down, nearly derelict T-40 in for servicing without a crew or proper rank uniform. Of course he wouldn't say anything, not to my face. It must have looked like I was actively trying to deceive him into a free repair of an unauthorized TT Capsule, and doing an awful job of it. He wouldn't challenge me directly. That wasn't the way of Gallifreyans. He'd bring it to a higher authority.

I swallowed, throat dry. Was that capsule even mine? It had to be, it felt familiar. It felt right. Even through the amnesia, this was one thing I knew. That T-40 belonged to me. But where was her crew? Where was _my_ crew?

"...Grandfather, is she okay?"

I looked up sharply. A concerned older Time Lord was looking my way as he walked past on a path several feet away. In tow he had an extremely youthful looking woman, nearly a child still, or else she'd just completed a fresh regeneration that had left her with a young body. She was the one who had asked the question.

He took the fork that brought him closer to the bench, and asked me the question himself.

"My dear, is everything alright?" He had long, slicked back silver hair to the nape of his neck, curled under at the tips, and his robes were dark, simple, and unadorned. Civilian, like mine. He held himself in a traditional Gallifreyan posture of quiet dignity. His eyes were sharp but kind. The young woman next to him was cautious yet curious.

"Yes," I lied automatically. Just because a stranger was interested didn't mean he wouldn't be any more sympathetic about amnesiacs. Much less ones in a world of trouble. It was difficult to tell his age, but I would have guessed from his sprightly expression that he was quite young by our standards, despite his physical age. First incarnation, perhaps. He would never understand the pain and isolation of amnesia if It'd told him how badly I was suffering from it.

"Now now, you say that, but your eyes speak a different truth. Would you like some company?"

I sincerely thought about it. A friendly face would be very welcome indeed, but what would I say? My apparently-telling eyes must have answered for me, though, because before I came to a decision, he offered a wide, close-lipped smile and looked at his granddaughter.

"Come, Susan, we're in no rush." He started to the bench, and I moved to one end obligingly. "Thank you," he told me, sitting by my side. "We were just on our way to the museum, to see the old Time Travel Capsules again. Have you any interest in traveling? You can call me the Doctor, by the way."

"Grandfather, why don't you just tell people your actual name?" the girl, Susan, asked with a touch of childish exasperation as she sat on his other side.

The gentleman smiled that same close-lipped smile at his granddaughter. " I didn't choose it for myself, why should I be constrained to it? And besides, 'Doctor' has a nice ring to it, doesn't it? It makes me sound helpful."

"Because you're _always _helpful."

"I'm being helpful now."

"Or you're just curious."

"You were the one who asked first. Now hush Susan, we're being rude."

I didn't mind. I listened to their domestic bickering quietly, its simple superficiality helping to drain some of my fear. It sounded so normal, and normal was exactly what I needed right now. I needed something familiar and attention-focusing, some kind of stabilizing point to start putting things together in this swirling mess of confusion and missing memories and disappearing identification papers.

The Doctor turned back to me and offered a new, apologetic smile. I liked that he smiled a lot. It was relaxing. "Terribly sorry, we didn't mean to come over and interrupt your brooding with our bickering. Or is 'brooding' too strong a word? This is Susan, by the way; my granddaughter."

Brooding was not too strong a word. It was much more like worrying, or being terrified out of my wits, but with the way I was trying to contain it, it might have looked very similar. It certainly felt like a strong enough word for now. "It's quite a pleasure to meet the both of you, and I don't mind your conversation. I need something to distract me. My name is Savnarae." That was what the IDs both said, at least. It didn't sound familiar on my lips, but your name was said by others more than yourself, wasn't it? "Savna is fine." My voice sounded distracted. I didn't think I could help that.

"A pleasure to meet you, Savna. Was there something in particular you needed a distraction from?" He glanced down at the still-open cardholder in my hands, and leaned a few inches closer, lowering his voice. "You know that paper is psychic, correct? If that is what's worrying you, whatever is on it is false."

_That's the problem._ Or one of them, at least. "Yes, I know." _Now. Knowing half an hour ago would have been nice._ "Thank you. And to be honest, there are a few things on my mind, too many to name."

He sat straight again, and once more smiled. "I see. Are you doing anything important any time soon, Savna? Would you like to come to the museum with us?"

"Grandfather, you can't just invite strangers on trips to the museum!" Susan declared.

The Doctor chucked quietly. "No my dear, you cannot _kidnap _strangers on trips to the museum," he told her slowly, as if it was a common childhood terminology mix-up. "You can _invite_ strangers wherever you please. And besides, we're all on first-name basis now, and we know each other's business. Hardly strangers any longer."

"First-name, right." This child definitely had spunk. They were both helping tremendously.

The Doctor made a small noise of patient dismissal, then turned aback to me. "So? Would you like to come to the museum?"

"I'd love to come to the museum," I told him. I wasn't exaggerating, either. I liked this man and his spunky granddaughter. They were exactly the distraction I needed. I wanted to stay with them for a while yet. Maybe seeing some artifacts and old technology would jog my memory, too. It would give me a way to calm myself while I waited for the contact from the technician-secretary.

"Wonderful. Shall we then, my dears?" He rose and turned to offer us both hands. What a gentleman. I took it and rose as well, slipping the psychic paper back into my pocket, eternally grateful to this unnamed Doctor and his granddaughter, Susan, for calming me down and giving me the beginnings of hope for stability.

We walked down the path together and exited the park, on our way to the Time Travel Museum of Rassilon, my hearts slowly calming into a normal rhythm once more.


	4. No Time for Memories

"Savna-!"

I sighed impatiently. Susan was calling me from down the museum's hall. Yet again. If the Doctor hadn't said himself that he wanted to actually see anything in this museum, I might have easily thought he was a security guard patrolling the exhibits with the amount of careless disregard he had for most of the things contained here. We'd gone through two sectors already without stopping at all, the Doctor briskly striding toward_ something_ apparently special buried deep in the newer TT Capsule archives. I was lagging behind, trying frantically to read anything I could. The nostalgia was overwhelming. I knew this place like the back of my hand. I'd been here time and again in a previous regeneration; at least one of me had been fascinated by history, but the memories were clouded as if by a fog that lifted only when I saw the actual displayed artifacts. We were hurrying through primitive, extraterrestrial land transportation at this point. Most of the museum was filled with alien tech, things brought back by temporal expeditionary crews from the junk yards of other worlds, studied, revitalized, and fixed by the scientists of Gallifrey, then donated once every bit of information had been gleaned from them. Beside every display was a small holographic screen that contained the cumulative effort of those studies as free information for any of the public to learn for his or her own pleasure. Every few displays I tried to pause a moment to scan some pages with my eyes, fingers rapidly moving in a practiced fashion across the holograms, manipulating the data display to steal back as much memory as I could from this collection of days long gone, but every time I did the Doctor pushed farther and farther ahead, stopping only at the doorways between exhibit halls and waiting stubbornly and impatiently for me to catch up. Susan stayed about halfway between us, constantly calling after me, each time with a more pronounced note of apology in her tone than before.

This hall was a particularly large one. I remembered that a while ago it was up for consideration to be split and subdivided by galactic sector or relative developmental time period or some other criteria, but that hadn't happened yet. The Doctor was nearly out of sight though the halls weren't crowded with many visitors, and Susan was getting more and more anxious about leaving me behind. I understood that I was the guest here, but apparently the Doctor's compassion for distraught women extended only so far as they continued to be distraught. I was thoroughly immersed in data recollection at this point, lost in trying to remember who I was, and I'd left my worries about the technician secretary outside. Now I was just a stray, apparently. A third wheel in this preordained journey of the Doctor's. I felt that I would have just told Susan to go catch up with him and left them at that had my amnesia finally lifted by now, but despite their irritating urging and pressing denial of my desire to sightsee, I wanted to stick with them for a while yet. The Doctor's sense of purpose was keeping me level-headed and solution-focused, and he and his granddaughter still formed a solid, normal point for me to base my slowly-reconstructing life on.

At another call from Susan, I gave up my valiant efforts in this hall and quickened my pace to catch up with her.

"Where is he going?" I finally asked as we walked side-by side.

"To the TARDISes. He likes those best."

"The whats?" I frowned at her. I'd never heard that word before.

"The TARDISes," she repeated with a cheery smile. "It's the name I made up, from their acronym. T-A-R-D-I-S. The Time and Relative Dimension in Space. The TT Capsules."

"Ah, that makes sense. Time and Relative...TARDIS." The name was strikingly more familiar than "Savnarae" when I said it myself. I almost wished I had a notebook to write these little things down in. "But I figured we were going to the capsules anyway. Is that the only exhibit he wants to see, though?"

Susuan nodded. "They're the only thing he cares about. All the time, he tells me how much he wants to take one and just go."

"Go where?" There was something about this topic, this conversation. It was heading into familiar territory. I was a captain of a TARDIS crew. This was what I did for a living. I explored planets. Yes. Yes I did, that was what I did for a living. That explained a lot. I felt a small amount of relief at my first real, satisfying answer. A few pieces of information had just fallen into neat, logical place.

"Anywhere." Susan didn't seem to notice anything different despite my realization. "Doesn't matter. Just plug in coordinates and go."

"It's not that simple, you know."

Susan nodded. "It's only a dream," she said, watching her grandfather down the hall with a wistful look in her eyes.

I watched her quietly, nodding. Compassion. There was a new feeling. Or was it pity? No, I could relate to this young Time Lady, it was definitely compassion. I knew what it was like, being trapped on Gallifrey when all I wanted to do was explore. To go anywhere, see new things, be completely free.

"It must be hard for you to be stuck here."

"Oh no, I'm happy right here." Susan shook her head quickly. "I just wish Grandfather was happy on Gallifrey, too."

_Oh._ Maybe it was her grandfather I felt compassion for, then. I followed her gaze to him. He was standing pointedly with his back to us, his hands somewhere around his chest, elbows out, probably holding the vertical stripes of the robe he wore. It seemed to be a habit of his when he was impatient. Susan sighed beside me.

"You know he doesn't mean to be like this. He doesn't like waiting on people much. I'm not sure why he thought it was a good idea to drag you along with us, you know. You don't _have _to follow us, if he's being too much..."

I smiled. I really didn't mind, when it got down to it. I understood it, in its convoluted way. Sort of, at least. "It's fine, I promise. I would like to stay with you, though. I'm a bit alone at the moment," I finally admitted out loud. "I'll try not to keep holding him up, though. I should apologize for that. I don't mean to annoy him, I just...I used to come here a lot in a previous renewal, it holds a lot of memories." _Renewal. _Why did I use that word. There was something about it...

Susan's face lit up, and she looked sharply up at me. "You've renewed?" Her tone was pleasantly shocked.

I smiled. "Quite recently, in fact." I knew why. Regeneration implied a violent or foolish death. Renewal, by sharp contrast, suggested a peaceful passing by old age, and a dignified continuation of life. A regeneration was a waste. A loss of the rest of a life that will never be given back. A renewal was something...not quite necessarily to be proud of in peace times, but something like an accomplishment. It was certainly a notch on the belt, so-to-speak. You've taken care of yourself for an entire lifespan, and you've been rewarded with another; a new life that came precisely when it was supposed to, and not a moment before its time. "Have either of you?" I looked between Susan and her grandfather.

She shook her head. "Neither. We're both on our first lives."

My smile widened into a grin. That explained much about both of them, particularly the Doctor. Oh, to be young and full of longing once more. The sad part was that I didn't yet see him as a proper TARDIS captain. Perhaps his next life would see a more mature, patient man. As fun as it would be to wander the fourth dimension freely, that was simply not how the Time Lords did things. We were methodical, careful. We planned and documented all of our trips and submitted what we expected to recover per expedition. We didn't just vault off into the wild orange yonder in search of adventure. But it was a similar dream of my own that had led me to where I was now, so I certainly related to the Doctor. I foresaw good things in his future, if he was any bit as persistent and passionate as I was.

He was already off, after a stern glance over his shoulder at us. He was certainly persistent and passionate in getting to the TT Capsules. We'd almost caught up to him by now, and that was close enough for him to start walking again.

"I do wish he'd give me a few moments, though," I mentioned after a small silence punctuated by a sigh. "I haven't been back here in ages..."

"I think we'll have time once he's seen the TARDISes again," Susan replied. She hesitated for a second, then, "What's it like?"

"The capsules?" I didn't understand. "I thought you said you'd been here often before." As far as I knew, they were open to the public. They were mostly boring boxes on the outside. Not particularly interesting.

"No, I meant the renewal process. What's it like?"

"Oh." I thought back to the pain, the splitting headache, the total and complete fatigue of death, when the body no longer responded to even the most desperate pleas of the mind to carry on. I thought about the chilling isolation of waking up alone and confused, the haunting questions, the scattered and unaccounted-for knowledge. I realized I hadn't found a mirror yet. I didn't know what I looked like.

"I've been told it's very unique to each Time Lord," I explained with a smile. "So even if I told you what mine was like, you couldn't expect it for yours. I've heard of it described as a tunnel slightly too small to squeeze through, like a gasp for air after holding your breath too long, like waking from a dream, like being in zero gravity and suddenly returning to weight. It's different for each of us." That sounded general enough to evade the answer. I was a bit concerned about finding a mirror. Well, I wasn't really, but I was at least more interested in finding a mirror than I was in lying to a young Time Lady I liked. I wasn't entirely sure it was a lie, either. It sounded familiar, as though somneone had told me a similar thing in my first life. It's one of those things that all Time Lords wonder about at least once before it happens. Sort of like lesser races and death.

Susan didn't seem particularly satisfied with that answer, and made a small noice of reluctant acceptance, apparently opting not to push her luck and press for more.

We walked through the rest of the exhibits somewhat quietly, trailing a few feet behind the Doctor but keeping up with him despite several emotions growing more and more difficult to contain in the region of my chest. It was maddeningly difficult to ignore half of the things we passed, and nearly impossible to ignore the other half. Everything called to me, begging me to stop and read about it. Hundreds of memories flitted just beyond the edge of my conscious mind, each display teasing me with its almost-remembered significance and a name always just at the tip of my tongue but never any closer. _That one was called...Oh this one, that planet it came from was...I was there once, I knew it! Oh, these! These were my favorites! What were they? _After land-based transportation came flight vehicles, and short-distance spacecrafts. Some of the designs were clever, others bizarre, but all had served their purpose on their worlds, each crafted to the unique ideals of its people and conditions of their planet.

"Are you all right, Savnarae?"

I tore my eyes from a brilliangly gleaming little number cased in a special blue thermospacial plastic made by creatures I _knew_ I'd met before. I realized how despondent I looked as I turned my attention to the concerned young woman beside me. I fought to push it away, but it was like moving a snowball I'd let roll down the hill for too long. It put up a fight. I took a deep breath, and nodded. This was why I needed to keep talking, why I couldn't be alone. It didn't take much to overwhelm me.

"Yes, sorry. It's just...It's been a while. I want to look at so many of the exhibits, but I don't want to keep the Doctor any longer."

"Oh, it's all right. I can tell him you'll catch up, if you'd like," she asked helpfully. I shook my head.

"No, we're almost there." I wanted to see what he was so obsessed with in the TT Capsule section, or at least _how _he was obsessed with these capsules.

"All right, if you're sure."

I smiled. It took the edge off the anxiety. "I am. Thank you, Susan."

She smiled back. It looked fairly genuine.

I spent the rest of the walk-one more section on long-range alien spacecraft, manned and unmanned-calming my nerves. I told myself after we'd seen what the Doctor wanted to see, I'd find out what his plans were. If he had any, I'd decided I'd probably part ways with him for the sake of satisfying my slowly-becoming-controlled curiosity. If he didn't, I'd ask him to stay with me for a bit longer while I did so. Either way, I had to come back. And telling myself this was almost like bargaining with my emotions, helping to settled them back into place by placating them with promises of eventual satiation.

The TT Capsule room was a thrill in and of itself, though. The Doctor finally slowed down and disappeared inside an open capsule, and Susan wandered off from my side to another, signifying that apparently I as well was free to move about as I pleased. I drifted to the Type-40 first, of course. She had never been my first choice, but when I was assigned to my T-40's unit, I didn't complain. A job was a job, and she got us from point A to point B in one piece. I just wished I'd remembered who "we" were. It was coming back, though, my memory. The bits and pieces worried me a bit, though, like everything else. This wasn't the way amnesia typically lifted. It was usually one big rush; a trigger to set it off, then an explosion of backstory. I wondered if I was just naturally anxious as I stepped into the T-40's console room. It was hard to judge who I really was and what I was like under such muddled circumstances.

Oh, she _was_ pretty, though. This T-40 was immaculate. Everything was gleaming and in working order. I immediately made my way to an open panel on the console, my fingers itching for adventure. She was practically calling to me. A perfect vintage, I could almost feel her contentment. There were big debates in my line of work as to just how "alive" these TT Capsules were. I would swear up and down they had their own personalities, their preferences. And this one just sat here, lovely and pleased, so happy to be living out her last days filled with the adoration of young minds and the nostalgia of old, kept up by the most passionate of curators, like living out a lovely retirement plan with all the amenities. I traced the edges between her console casing and the controls, naming every one in my head. There was the Vector Tracker, and the Vortex Loop nearby, here was the Gravitic Anomalyzer, and she still had her original Time Path Indicator, how impressive. Her Time Rotor in the center was magnificent, all spirals and pendulums and glittering golden spheres encased in polished glass, etched with the simple beauty of Old High Gallifreyan letters spelling out her make, model, years of operation, and past captains. What a lovely, lovely classic. It broke my hearts to see her so far down in the line of TT Capsules in this museum exhibit, but she was no spring chicken, not the T-40, not anymore. They had such nicer ones out these days. Maybe I would upgrade once this matter of identity was settled, if everything went well.

I smiled to myself and turned away, only to see my own gaze reflected back from the doorway, in the eyes of the Doctor. He wasn't looking at me, though, I doubt he even noticed me here. He only had eyes for the console. He walked right past me, and almost mimicked my motions perfectly, standing right where I had, his fingers tracing the console's grooves.

"Beautiful..." I heard him say. I smiled. He had the passion, all right. I watched him spend several minutes just gazing at the console and her vintage Time Rotor before recollecting himself once more. He straightened his back and nodded quietly to himself. "This one," he murmured. He turned, and was startled to see me there. I was busy frowning, wondering what "this one" meant, and he frowned right back at me.

"It's rude to eavesdrop, my dear," he said curtly. I couldn't help but grin at him. Here he was, this grandoise old man with all the stately regality of an elder, but his behavior, and my knew knowledge of his age relative to my own, just made him amusing.

"You'll have to forgive me, Doctor," I apologized, unable to hide the amusement from my tone. I wished him the best, I really did. I hoped he would find everything he desired in his life, and that it would be long and fulfilling and interesting. He reminded me so much of myself. I was so glad that he'd picked me up from that park. The serendipity couldn't have been more perfect.

"What is so funny, hm?" he asked, narrowing his eyes scrutinizingly. He wasn't pleased that I had witnessed a moment of personal intimacy between himself and a machine.

"Nothing." It was easier to lie than try to explain to him how I felt. I hoped dishonesty wasn't one of my characteristic features. It seemed like it was rapidly becoming one.

The Doctor stared hard at me for another distrusting moment, but if he was about to say anything else, he was suddenly distracted by something behind me. An instant later, I felt a light but pointy object hit my left shoulder. A small clear cube with a smaller white cube inside bounced into my peripheral view and settled, floating, before my eyes. It bore a thin-lined, black, traditional circle Gallifreyan seal of the Council of Exploratory Time Travel. The console room hushed for a brief moment as everyone noticed in a ripple pattern, but the silence didn't last long. Hypercubes were rare, but not unheard of. Only the Doctor's clearly-surprised eyes remained on the cube.

"Is that...the seal of the C-E-T-T?" he asked, any previous transgressions forgiven.

I took it in one hand from its hovering point in front of my face, and nodded, struggling to keep my face straight. Torn beteween apprehension over the message cube and jubilation at letting the Doctor discover what I did for a living, it was quite a feat. "Yes. My T-40's either been diagnosed or repaired, we just got back from a-"

"-_You_ have a TARDIS?" the Doctor interrupted loudly, causing several nearby Gallifreyans to glance our way curiously. I flinched at the volume myself.

"Yes. I am a captain of an exploratory TT Capsule crew. I'd just returned from a mission when you found me in the park." _Empty-handed and without my alleged crew_. A chill ran down my spine as my apprehension grew stronger. I needed to know what this message said. "If you'll excuse me."

The Doctor didn't seem at all to excuse me, though. He followed me right down that ramp and back into the museum doggedly. I would have found him very annoying if I didn't understand exactly why he was acting this way.

In a corner away from the main crowds, I took the hypercube in both hands and closed my eyes, drawing its message into my mind. An unfamiliar, crisp voice spoke to me. _Pilot Savnarae. We have had several technical issues diagnosing your TT Capsule; it seems to be heavily modified for self-sustained, autonomous use. We have had problems locating your registration, as well. Please return to the Council building to clarify your details and confirm your identity and ownership of your Capsule. _

No signoff. The seal was the signature. I reopened my eyes and turned to see a very interested-looking Doctor behind me holding the vertical stripes of his robe at his chest again. Susan had joined him, looking curiously from him to me. She noticed the hypercube, and looked up at me again.

"I have to go," I told them, feeling a little unwell. I turned and started off quickly, but the Doctor called after me.

"Wha-wha-where are you going, now? Wait one moment, Savna!" I glanced over my shoulder. They were following, the Doctor taking long, determined strides and Susan half-jogging to keep up.

"I have to go pick up my T-40 from the C-E-T-T repair yard."

"Slow down! Bring me with you!" The Doctor caught up with me and matched pace beside me. I tried to walk faster. I could see his breathing growing a little heavy.

I didn't answer right away though. I wasn't going to go just pick it up. That message held a clear undertone that nothing was right and I had a lot of explaining to do. unfortunately, I couldn't explain any of it. I needed to figure myself out before I could confront the Gallifreyan government. However, I didn't want them to repossess my T-40 while I did that. I had to steal it back. Fingers of memories tugged at my peripheral vision as I passed again those achingly familiar displays that lined the hallways, retracing my route out. I ignored them. Maybe one day I'd come back. But not now. Now I had to figure out how to do the impossible, with barely scraps of memories and a wealth of knowledge just beyond my reach, and i had no clue what I'd do if I succeeded.

I took a sharp turn toward a side-exit. "Doctor, I can't. Go back to the capsule room, forget about me. I have to go." I pushed my way out the door. He followed my detour with rapidly tiring determination, but he had to stop at the exit. Apparently his body was every bit as old as it looked. Perhaps he himself was up for a renewal soon.

"Wait! Savna! Come back!" I cast a glance over my shoulder. He was leaning against the door frame, breathing heavily. Susan was looking up at him with helpless concern. He continued to call after me, but I looked back to my path and turned a corner.

This was obviously something I had to do alone. I stuffed the spent hypercube into a bigger-on-the-inside pocket and steeled myself for the worst.


End file.
